


White Eyes

by JhinnyJaxy (ZoicZeph)



Series: A Drunk Idiot or a Sober Psychopath: Which is Worse? [2]
Category: League of Legends
Genre: ?? does it count as arguing if one person is being rude?, Arguing, Awkward Silences, Cuddling & Snuggling, Like a super unreliable narrator, M/M, Nyctophobia, Sharing a Bed, Slice of Life, Unreliable Narrator, and the other is mildly annoyed but ultimately just goes with it???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-28 22:24:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13913433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoicZeph/pseuds/JhinnyJaxy
Summary: Jhin wakes up late one night with a headache and tries to piece together the reason why. The conclusion he comes to may cause more trouble for him than if he'd just gone back to sleep.





	White Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> This one's a tiny bit darker than the last, but honestly how could it not when you have Jhin as the narrator.

Jhin awoke to a jab of pain in the back of his neck, causing him to jerk suddenly from under his covers. Several moments of bleary-eyed blinking and adjusting to the dark later, he came to the realization his right arm felt a little funny. It felt like the dull sensation you get when you go numb, a gentle bumping of your veins and the tingling sensation at your fingertips being the only clue it was still attached. He lifted it up to where he could see it, turning his head to the right slightly. A passing thought wondered if something had happened to it in his sleep.

It appeared to be unharmed, but he felt the prickling feeling of his fingers had began to take over his arm. It got to a point where it was boarding on painful, then dulled as the blood finally got to where it needed to be.

_Hm.._

The man sat up slowly in bed, winced, and touched the side of his head. A thin veil of black and white dots blurred his vision as the pain gradually filled his head from one side to the other like thick, oily water. Ah, a headache. _That_ would be what woke him up. Should have guessed, but in all honesty Jhin hadn’t expected one at this hour. Why, the sun wasn’t even up yet. Normally the throbbing headaches would come once the sun peeked through the window above the backboard of his bed and fell on his eyes, if they came at all.

Jhin turned his head to look out the window that sat at eye-level to him. The only light he could make out was the dim marble-white glow from the moon. It must have been early morning; earlier than the sunrise, certainly. The moonlight seemingly glittered off the leaves of his blooming garden outside. They shook in the breeze - but it was suspiciously silent.

Another passing thought; _someone had made it that way._ Just to trick him. They were making him see things again, things that weren’t true. They forgot one thing, though, and that was to add sound to this illusion. So he saw right through it.

Yet another thought; _what if I played along? Surely they would show themselves to me._ Act like he didn’t notice, play naive and wait for the sorry fellow that decided to try him to show. Then, maybe make him pay. Make him scream, beg for mercy. Pull him limb from limb until there was nothing left but-

“I.. uh.. mornin?”

The artist’s head snapped to attention, immediately turning to the source of the noise: a familiar, chubby purple man with faintly glowing blue-green eyes. He carried a small candle holder with a half-burned candle in it, a thin cream-colored blanket draped over his shoulders and wrapped tightly around front of him. Jax's nightclothes were slightly wrinkled (that certainly seemed right; the man rarely washed his clothes, let alone ironed them.. despite the fact Jhin required him to), flattening only at the points where his chubbier bits pushed against the fabric. It was mildly attractive, Jhin _had_ to admit, but he still had to keep his guard up... even if he could feel his own face flushing and his hands getting sticky with sweat. Long hair a little messy, sticking out and fuzzing in certain areas, spiraling at its ends; the beautiful, blossom-like burn scar on his shoulder, peeking through the collar of his nightshirt...

“Uhm.. did I, uh, wake you up?” an uneasy smile made its way to his face. He'd likely gotten uncomfortable with Jhin's staring.

Jhin answered flatly, not giving any mind to the other's discomfort, “I wouldn’t think so.”

An anxiety flickered across Jax's face like the flame of the candle. He always had given too much away with his expressions, he was so used to wearing a mask that he hadn't the need to learn such a skill as hiding your expression. His body gave of nothing, though, as he was more verse in manipulating his body expressions. The fighter glanced away, fixing his gaze on the candle. Jhin squinted and tried to see through the illusion. Whoever had put him here may have chosen to pose as his lover. A smart move, if they were dealing with a _common_ man, but Jhin thought himself to be nothing close to the common man. He was unique, intelligent, and _perceptive_. He could see right through their plan. So predictable, so foolish, it was as though they just tore it right from a book.

"Why were you up, my darling? It's not even morn, and you are already out and about."

"Uh," Jax's face cycled through emotions, his mouth opening and closing several times as he tried to speak. "I, uhm.."

"Do spit it out."

Jax silently made his way to the bedside.

"I want an answer."

Their eyes met, expressions giving simple messages. Jhin's gave little, save for his impatience with the conversation. Jax's changed rapidly between thousands with minute changes. It was oddly fascinating, to Jhin, seeing so many different versions of the same two expressions. He almost wanted to imitate them, see how it feels to have them. There was not so much as a conversation, but a hasty exchange of absolute gibberish that somehow gave a vaguely coherent interaction: 'I really had to take a piss'...... 'Ah, I see.'.

"I'm sorry."

"Oh for goodness sake," Jhin hissed as he rolled his eyes. "Do you have to apologize for _everything_?"

"I'm- I didn't mean to wake you up, sweetie."

"Obi, I don't _care_ if you woke me up. You don't have to apologize every single time nature calls. That's utterly preposterous, and awfully awkward, might I admit."

"I-"

"And we're even  _sharing_ a bedroom, dear. You think I would sleep in the same bed as you if I was planning on getting mad when you woke me up?"

The fighter mumbled something below his breath.

"No, I wouldn't. I'd have you sleep on the floor like a _dog_."

A snarl of teeth, somewhere between a grimace and anger, "At least you're _blunt_ about it.."

"I _have_ to when I'm with a man like you, who doesn't so much as beat _around_ the bush, but gallivants about it while shouting 'LALALALALA' with his fingers in his ears, pretending it isn't there."

Again, silence stretched between them. Jax glared at the bedside table just to his left, Jhin stared at Jax. Jhin could hear his own breathing, heavy and tense. He'd gotten a little _too_ mad. He took a deep breath, sighing harshly. Jax flinched, looked to him, then shook his head as he were throwing off a hood and crawled back into bed, placing the candle on the nightstand that miraculously avoided having three holes bored into it by sheer will alone. Jhin squeezed his eyes shut as another bolt of pain crackled through his head, leaving a rippling sting just below his scalp. The temptation to try and dig it out surfaced from the deeper reaches of his mind, but something in there screamed _'THE IDIOT IS RIGHT THERE'_ loud enough it kept him from actually doing so.

Jhin opened one eye, settling his gaze on a small book he was reading before bed. A collection of poems and short stories, which he was thoroughly enjoying despite the... repetitive storylines and gaudy word choice. He looked at it harder, taking in every detail. Brown cover, gray binding, pink and flowery designs on the cover. A frankly terrible color combination in theory, but rather pleasant one in practice. This cover was odd, featuring an asymmetrical pattern of roses and other flowers, some more detailed than the rest. Part of it looked unfinished.

He recalled a story in it of a man so desperate for love, he jumped at the chance to marry a widowed woman with white eyes. Every other man who had her before either returned her with claims of her blindness, or she was returned by their families who complained about her 'odd-smelling' cooking. The night of their wedding, which had an impressive total of three people who went (The man, the woman with white eyes, and the man's elderly mother), was a simple but beautiful affair. Petals rained down from the trees as the couple were married, they all wore beautiful robes, they did their hair, and the house was cleaned and new cooking utensils bought. There was a helpful illustration for the reader, too. (Kudos to the author on that one, even _Jhin_ was moved by the artwork.) The man's mother died of happiness in her sleep the night after wedding. A funeral was quickly arranged, the whole town invited, as nearly everyone knew the man's mother. A week later the newlywed man and woman rode a carriage to the planned gravesite, in the rain. On the way, the woman with white eyes pushed the man out of the carriage and laughed as he was crushed beneath the stream of carriages behind them. When asked at the funeral, she said that her husband had been so overcome with sadness at the loss of his mother that he ran off. Everyone believed her, as the man's corpse had been pushed below the muddy road by all of the unwitting carriages, and was never found.

Jhin felt a ball of worry sit itself in this chest. The worry soon turned to paranoia as he recalled the fact he was likely in an illusion meant to weaken him, part of a plot to kill him. He did not want to become that man. His cold gaze slowly returned to the Grandmaster, who now slept soundly on his side. The candle still flickered on the nightstand, likely left for Jhin (he had an _awful_ fear of the dark, you see). He didn't trust the sleeping man behind him. He was not purring, or cooing, as he usually does while sleeping. He only gave soft snores, the occasional sniffle, and even sometimes stopped breathing for a couple seconds at a time. The man was not Jax, _certainly_.

But.. who else _would_ it be?

Jhin glowered at his dearest's shoulder as he pondered this. Finding no answer, he rolled his eyes and slipped back under the covers, throwing an arm over Jax's waist. There was a hitch in the fighter's breathing as both of them shifted. Jhin felt his other's back lean into his chest. Their legs tangled and they clasped eachother's hands, Jhin brushing his fingers over the dry scars and rough patches of purple skin with a mix of fascination and infatuation. Jhin felt a dull ache in his head, but forced himself to ignore it. He took a deep breath, savoring the mix of their scents, then blew out the candle.

"Good night, darling," Jhin mumbled with an affectionate squeeze.

"Sorry again..."

"Good _night_ , darling."

Jax huffed, a sleepy smile on his lips, "'Night."

 

 

He could hear the rain now, tapping shyly at the window. Was it over now? Was he okay? Was he dead? Who was he with? Jhin's forgotten heart pounded deep within his chest, his fingers curling tightly around someone's thumb, digging into his palm. The artist's eyes darted from corner to corner, trying to watch every soft-edged shadow within view with careful consideration. His ears sent ringing bells through his mind at every odd noise; a choked-off purr from his lover as he breathed, the heavier _smack_ some raindrops would give as they crashed into the window, every small creak and shuffle the servants made as they moved about in other parts of the house, the funny cracks from the bed frame every time Jhin flinched. He didn't _dare_ look behind him. His head hurt. His right arm felt numb. Nothing seemed right, nothing seemed real, nothing was real, nothing was real, nothing was real...

He pushed whatever was in front of him off the bed.

He pulled the covers up to his nose.

He stared, wide-eyed, _terrified_ , at the ceiling.

He traced every notch and dip in the plaster with his shaking gaze, a little voice telling him they looked like tracks left behind by the wheels of a cart.

The shining moonlight filtered in through the window just above the backboard, falling where it could reflect off Jhin's eyes - a shining, silvery white in the darkness.


End file.
